The fact that Victor can use so many words, so very easily, one on top of the other, without any pauses, is almost an undoing of sorts. Following them. The fact it starts with a question that makes him feel even more self-conscious, not even properly able to get adrift in search of the right word or idea for how to even answer, before he's adding even more of it. That he wants Yuri to be able to talk to him like Yuri has any certainty left about the bottom portion of his face, what's it's used for and how to use it.
Have any control over it, or understanding of it. Aside from the spotlight glare of blistering knowledge that it's added kissing Victor to the list. Which is really as far as anything even remotely like helpful and clear gets, while Victor is still talking. Wants to know. What he's thinking. If he's worried. If he feels all right. Like he has the faintest clue of quite himself, and he needs to, very suddenly, very now, because Victor wants them.
Which is building in the muddle of his stomach, still too warm, he's all over too warm. From the skin of his cheeks under his glasses, to his ears, to his neck and the crook of his arms, and the pits of them, and in a blur of something like all too distant and all too present horror, he feels the warmth on him like a stickiness. Like the sheen of his skin right after a first warm-up round, and it's not helping anything anywhere to make sense.
It's only adding more questions, and he's only still aware of it. Suddenly.
All of his skin, and looking down, it's maybe not entirely surprising, is it? "I still have my coat on." It's not all that. He's not an idiot enough to think that. But it's a confused surprise to have forgotten it. To have never taken it off when he came in, and to be still standing there, with Victor who already had.
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Date: 2017-04-14 01:35 pm (UTC)Have any control over it, or understanding of it. Aside from the spotlight glare of blistering knowledge that it's added kissing Victor to the list. Which is really as far as anything even remotely like helpful and clear gets, while Victor is still talking. Wants to know. What he's thinking. If he's worried. If he feels all right. Like he has the faintest clue of quite himself, and he needs to, very suddenly, very now, because Victor wants them.
Which is building in the muddle of his stomach, still too warm, he's all over too warm. From the skin of his cheeks under his glasses, to his ears, to his neck and the crook of his arms, and the pits of them, and in a blur of something like all too distant and all too present horror, he feels the warmth on him like a stickiness. Like the sheen of his skin right after a first warm-up round, and it's not helping anything anywhere to make sense.
It's only adding more questions, and he's only still aware of it. Suddenly.
All of his skin, and looking down, it's maybe not entirely surprising, is it? "I still have my coat on."
It's not all that. He's not an idiot enough to think that. But it's a confused surprise to have forgotten it.
To have never taken it off when he came in, and to be still standing there, with Victor who already had.